


rotten work

by pahdme



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Dom!Shisui, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kakashi missed his chance, Multi, No Uchiha Massacre, Old hurt between kakashi and sakura, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Play, Sakura is DONE with all the patronizing men in Konoha, Voyeurism, anbu au, because wtf is closure, jealousy due to unresolved feelings, or did he?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24978151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pahdme/pseuds/pahdme
Summary: “I’m not so sure of that. ANBU isn’t all that easy to join, even for a kid like her, Kakashi. You should know that best.”At that Kakashi makes a sound that Genma would call a chuckle, if he didn't know the Copy Nin any better.The answer shoots back faster than a cannon. “And you think she’s just a kid, Shisui?” His voice is smooth as the slopes of a shuriken, but just as sharp as its edges.at only twenty-two Sakura is a more than successful kunoichi. strong, capable, smart and full of fire—it’s no surprise that she draws the eyes of the ANBU team currently looking for an addition; but is it that easy? she’s hellbent on sending them into the desert but her plans derail quickly when she is slammed square in the chest with some very confusing feelings upon meeting her possibly soon to be teammates. an old unresolved relationship isn’t making any of this easier either! — buckle in for a fic full of smut, tension and tumultuous feelings!
Relationships: Endgame is lowkey unsure, Haruno Sakura & Yamanaka Ino, Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura/Shiranui Genma, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Shisui, Shiranui Genma/Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Shisui & Shiranui Genma
Comments: 115
Kudos: 364





	1. tweedledee and tweedledum

**Author's Note:**

> is this just my excuse to write shameless gensakushi with some kakasaku sprinkled in LOL
> 
> I took a different approach this time and have 3.5 chapters ready to go to post! I’m thinking of probably posting in weekly intervals, since I wanted to give myself a bit of a buffer to work on bsas and wth in the mean time, while still getting to explore this.
> 
> I kind of fell head over heels for Shisui out of nowhere a couple weeks ago (Kamen had a big role in that, if you haven’t read it yet, PLEASE do) and I wanted to thank AmayaNoAkatsuki for her sweet help as my beta! I based a lot of my characterization for shisui on hers, so it was awesome I got her input <3
> 
> anyway, I really hope you enjoy this, this is just the start! Please leave me all your thoughts as usual, I would LOVE to hear what you think!! <3

Three men are gathered on the roof just east of the Hokage tower as the setting sun burns their necks and the wind threads its hands through their hair.

Kakashi can’t believe that out of all people in this goddamn village, they came to _him_ over this.

“What makes you think Sakura would even _want_ to join you?”

_Huh?_

Now, this is _not_ exactly the reaction either of the two ANBU anticipated here. Mildly stunned, Shisui and Genma exchange a fast glance, bordering closely on a frown at the unexpected question tossed at them. In a fraction of a second the two decide and communicate their next move; impressively easy at that, but not surprising in light of having to rely on it for so many years already. Only through the marginal tilt of a chin and a mere twitch of a wrist the two teammates engage in a whole argument; all without so much as making a single noise. Their silent conversation bounces back and forth between _‘now what?’_ and _‘how the fuck would I know?’_ at lightning speed, before the senior of the two eventually clicks his senbon between his teeth and decides to pry open the can of worms set before them. “What do you mean?”

Amused by their blatant bewilderment Kakashi only shrugs in answer, seemingly neutral and standing so in contrast to the two ANBU tensing up before him. Hidden behind his mask however his lips curl into an impish grin. The gentle crinkle of his eyes barely acts as a clue to his true sentiments. “Do you really think someone as proficient as Sakura wouldn’t already be ANBU, if she wanted to be?”

Just like his first reaction, this statement seems to hit like a missile. Once more, nonplused silence envelops the two opposite him. It’s so uncharacteristic for the two, it should make him worry, until Genma huffs something between a laugh and a snort. The playing field seems back to normal—yet not quite. Shisui is still silent while he regards Kakashi closely and it makes the back of his neck itch. For good reason Kakashi concludes, once the Uchiha does speak.

“I’m not so sure of that. ANBU isn’t all that easy to join, even for a kid like her, Kakashi. You should know that best.”

At that Kakashi makes a sound that Genma would call a chuckle, if he didn't know the Copy Nin any better.

The answer shoots back faster than a cannon. “And you think she’s just a kid, Shisui?” His voice is smooth as the slopes of a shuriken, but just as sharp as its edges.

“I didn’t say that. We wouldn’t be scouting her if we thought that,” Shisui deadpans easily, meeting the jōnin’s measured gaze head on. Gunmetal meets charcoal and neither wavers even in prolonged silence. The plural he used in his statement isn’t lost on Kakashi and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was actually Genma’s idea to pursue Sakura, rather than Shisui’s. If he is already dancing around her every so often at the bar, then it isn’t farfetched to think he has taken note of her professional abilities as well.

“Have you spoken to the Godaime about your plans? You wouldn’t want to be snatching her apprentice from right under her nose, now,” Kakashi admonishes after a beat, with a lilt to his voice that borders a little too close to mock for Shisui’s taste.

Levelling his tone to not let on any underlying ire, Shisui shrugs as he pins the older shinobi with his gaze. “I’m sure she won’t object to her prized student succeeding in her career.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call joining the local Suicide Squad success,” he sneers before tacking on faux placatingly, “At least not considering Sakura’s career up until now.”

The attack is clear and Shisui has to grind his jaw; the leather of his tanto’s holster suddenly feels too tight across his broad chest.

Watching the increasingly terse altercation between his friends with a frown, Genma starts to get a sinking feeling that if he doesn’t step in soon, this conversation has considerable potential to escalate. Since this would severely interfere with his plans to just kick back and relax for at least _one_ _goddamn_ _evening_ in this village, his choice to interrupt is easily made, and he clears his throat almost taking a step between the two. “If Sakura is as smart as we know her to be, she’ll at least consider the offer. We’ve been on her heels all month and while the hospital is blatantly overworking her, it’s very clear she isn’t fulfilled. Or making use of her abilities, for that matter. Not with how rarely she finds the time to train,” he cuts in, easing both the situation and his posture as he leans back on his heels into more of a slouch. Hoping to coax Kakashi into mirroring his posture he sinks his hands into his pocket furthermore and his senbon twirls from one side of his mouth to the other idly. It works as hoped; the silver haired jōnin opposite him shifts his weight and at once the air is just that little bit easier to breathe.

At Genma’s right side Shisui clicks his tongue at his teammate’s words, not fully distracted from the dispute but at least ready to let the matter go, and nods in agreement, “Sakura would be a good addition to our team. I think the career switch would benefit her just as much as us.”

“Maa, I didn’t know either of you to be so patronizing,” Kakashi snarks and the mirth underlying his tone causes Shisui to roll his eyes as Genma scowls.

“Only because ANBU wasn’t for you any longer, doesn’t mean it can’t be good for her,” Shisui deflects as lightly as he can, but Kakashi catches onto the bite in his tone in the same way his clothing would snag on a branch. He isn’t impressed by it whatsoever and the blank stare he gives both of them makes that clear.

“That’s not what I was talking about. I find it pretty arrogant of both of you to assume she _‘isn’t fulfilled_ ’. How is that any of your concern?”

_How is it any of yours?_

The question burns clear and sharp on both ANBU agents’ tongues and even Kakashi can’t help asking himself that; yet he ignores this for the time being. _He_ didn’t go around making awfully inflammatory assumptions on the Hokage’s apprentice. Or her ‘fulfilment’.

Maybe it’s because he is the most senior out of the three, maybe it’s because he’s just craving a beer, but Genma decides to cut the moment short right then. They hadn’t come here to ask for permission from Kakashi, they had come here to _inform_ him out of courtesy. Maybe to press him for information that might change their strategy to convince her to join, but that evidently is taking a left turn. One Genma isn’t liking _at all_. Before the tension has an opportunity to reignite, the tokubetsu jōnin sighs and directs his gaze over the rooftops toward the hospital; still bright and busy as it is at any hour of the day—dead ignorant to a normal daily rhythm. His warm bronze eyes focus on one specific window near the right of the building, one story below the top floor, where he knows a certain rose-haired kunoichi to currently reside behind her desk, probably groaning over budget cuts, and clarifies gently, “I just have a gut feeling. She always sinks into herself a little at her desk, when she thinks she’s alone.”

While touched by Genma’s empathetic attention to Sakura’s wellbeing, or her _happiness_ rather, Kakashi can’t help but feel indignant at their overbearing presumptions. _Who the hell do they think they are?_ Schooling his tone, his eyes crinkle as he piques, “I’m still failing to see how that is _any_ of your business.”

Even the most patient man has a limit, and Shisui has been _seriously_ biting his tongue.

“Why are you upset about this in the first place, Hatake? It’s not like you cared for her when she was still your genin,” Shisui retorts lazily then, only underlining the very much intended attack of his statement by crossing his arms and meeting Kakashi’s eye head on.

Silence envelops the trio gathered on the apartment block’s roof uncomfortably for a third time then, when neither Sharingan wielder yields to the other’s intense stare. Genma’s previous inkling regarding the outcome of this conversation turns to bitter conviction as he realizes that his evening’s plans are now _most certainly_ in danger. Examining the headache beginning to throb at the base of his skull, he curses Shisui and his run-away mouth for it.

_Huh. Now_ that’s _a first._

Neither of the two shinobi caught in the stare down seem to make any move toward either letting it go _or_ doubling down, and Genma is ready to just leave, until a sound breaks free from Kakashi’s throat. One that Genma can identify without doubt as an amused snort.

It does not dissipate his dread one bit.

“And you think you will care better for her if she joins your team?” The question has resemblance to a colt prepared for a game of Russian roulette—depending on how Shisui chooses to interpret it, his answer will decide over whether this conversation escalates and blows someone’s brains out or if it diffuses into blank safety.

Attuned to his friend’s body language from working so closely together for so long, Genma isn’t fooled by his calm stance and instead picks up on the minuscule twitch of his dark brow _immediately._ It may be concealed from Kakashi, but Genma knows that Shisui is inwardly _rioting_ . The lack of blood in his knuckles as he tightens his grip on his own arm is a sure-fire giveaway. Non-surprisingly to the brunet, the generally level-headed ANBU captain reacts diplomatically in spite of his anger and grins, “If she becomes my teammate, I will look after her the way I look after all my teammates. To the best of my ability of course. Which means that she’ll be in _excellent_ care—” at that he nudges Genma with his elbow (a little harder than he deserves in his opinion) right between the lower ribs “—am I right, Genma? We’re _family_.”

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Genma gives a reassuring grin before decidedly passive aggressively clapping his teammate hard on the back. “Exactly. Family.”

It does very little to lift the animosity between the two shinobi, as sparks still seem to fly between their eyes, but at least Kakashi bites his tongue this time and doesn’t say out loud what he is thinking. Not that there is any need, Shisui can read it in his face without issue.

_I know how your family treats their own kind._

_Careful._

Exhaling softly, Kakashi slips his hands into his pockets and for a split second his eye flickers over to the hospital on the horizon. When he looks back at Shisui and Genma, his gaze is entirely unreadable. _As per usual._ Nothing but a wall of stone and seeming indifference behind the one charcoal eye swinging languidly between the two men in front of him. It’s common knowledge that the Copy Nin has less than kind thoughts on the elite shinobi unit, and honestly no one can fault him for it, but as he stays tersely silent, Shisui can’t help his thoughts from wandering. There are other whispers passed around the village about the silver-haired shinobi and the pink-haired medic that make Shisui believe that maybe his personal experiences with the elite force are not the only reason he is so averse to their proposition. When time begins to drag like bubblegum in their shared silence, Genma takes it upon himself to be personally responsible for easing the rookie team leader’s worry for his ex-student.

“Look, Kakashi,” he starts and in the split second Genma takes to wet his lips, he thinks he can catch the Copy Nin tense. “I know that aside from being her sensei you were pretty close with Sakura last year,”—he’s courteous enough not to mention that he _also_ heard that things apparently went pretty sour between the two—“so I get that you’re worried, but come on. We’ve known each other since childhood, you gotta trust us. _If_ —and you say yourself that’s a big ‘if’—she takes us up on the offer, we will do our best to watch over her.”

Every word reaches Kakashi dull and thickly, as though he is six feet under water. He appreciates Genma being polite enough to not mention the absolute disaster of a fling he and Sakura shared the year prior, but the reminder still feels like a kunai to his sternum. While his friend speaks, Kakashi directs his eyes toward the hospital fully, wondering if she knows they are talking about her, if she has a feeling of dread in her stomach at her name being mentioned like a summons. He listens intently, but he isn’t soothed by the sincerity in Genma’s baritone. Like a thorn in his side, Shisui’s curls catch in his peripheral vision, but he ignores the Uchiha pointedly as his partner finishes his appeal. It’s sweet almost, if not terrifying, how naive and optimistic someone so seasoned in their profession can be. After another agonisingly long moment of terse silence, Kakashi lets out an amused hum that makes the two ANBU exchange another glance. One of pure concern this time.

“See, that’s exactly where you’re wrong,” Kakashi comments then, evenly and smooth bar an amused rumble in his throat. This time it's undoubtedly a chuckle that accompanies his words and Shisui frowns at the way the mask stretches over his face. A _smile_. “You just don’t get it. Haruno Sakura doesn’t need anybody to ‘ _watch over her_ ’,” Kakashi nearly spits Genma’s words right back as he levels him with a pointed glare, causing the tokujō to bite down hard enough on his senbon to make it whip skyward. “Sakura will join you over her dead body with that attitude. I highly doubt that she has any interest in the unit one way or another, but if you use that kind of language around her, you’ll be lucky if she only laughs in your face instead of breaking it.”

There are a myriad of things Shisui feels like throwing back at the older shinobi in that moment; his own accusation of being patronizing right as the spearhead. But maybe this is why he is still in ANBU and Kakashi isn’t—he has grown better at swallowing his thoughts and biting his tongue dutifully.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” He asks in earnest, a last attempt to be amicable, and Kakashi feels his throat tighten.

“Set your sights elsewhere.”

A gust of wind, a ruffle of leaves and within a blink Genma and Shisui are left alone on the roof again. Maybe Genma will still get his beer tonight.

* * *

  
  


“Forehead. I feel like we’re being watched,” Ino grits through her teeth, exposed in an unconvincing smile while her cornflower blue gaze scans the perimeter of the road stretching behind her best friend. Eventually looking down at her plate, she stabs her takoyaki with a scowl before she leans closer toward the rosette. “Do you have a stalker?”

If Sakura wouldn’t be so immensely pissed off by the surveillance put upon her for the past month, she’d laugh. But as it is now, with this constant nagging feeling of having eyes on her at all times and severely missing her damn _privacy_ , Sakura has little room to laugh. All she responds with is a snort and a shake of her head. “Not in the traditional sense.”

“Huh?” The blonde across from her grunts dumbly through her mouthful of dumpling.

“Tsunade-sama told me this in confidence, but—” here she turns around in her seat, toward the rooftop two houses down across the road, and cups her hand around her mouth to amplify her shout, “—since _someone_ is doing a _sloppy ass job_ —” her voice returns back to a normal volume, “—I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you. ANBU is scouting me, or rather a particular team is, and they’ve been on my heels for over a month.”

Ino nearly chokes on her water at the confession delivered so nonchalantly and coughs violently into the crook of her elbow before she regards the kunoichi across from her with a concerned furrow of her brow. “ANBU? What the hell do they want with _you_?”

At that, Sakura glowers. The covert stalking has been unnerving enough already, she has no need for disrespect from her best friend at this time. Luckily for her, Ino catches her misstep quickly enough and rolls her eyes, waving dismissively, “Oh, come on, you know what I mean! Of course, you’re more than qualified, you’re just not... you know, _ANBU_ _material_.”

“What makes you say that?” Maybe the blonde’s previous remark cut deeper than assumed, because if Ino listens closely—and she _always_ does—she can almost hear a hint of a pout swing in Sakura’s voice as the rosette moodily shoves her food from side to side on her plate.

“I don’t know. ANBU are creepy. You’re not creepy,” she deadpans, hardly in the mood to stroke her ego at the moment, no matter how dejected the medic looks. “I just can’t see that being your thing, after you put so much effort into the clinic.”

“Yeah, well, the clinic also isn’t everything it’s chalked up to be. Just for your information,” Sakura huffs back irritatedly as she looks first at Ino—and then straight past her. Again, up to that rooftop down the road. Did she just see a flicker right beside that antenna? The cable spanning loosely away from it swings and while she could chalk it up to the heavy wind, she sticks by her previous opinion firmly: _Sloppy ass job._

_...Or maybe they_ want _me to see?_

Her thoughts are disrupted swiftly by the clatter of Ino’s chopsticks on the table, accompanied accordingly by an exasperated gasp. “Forehead, do you _want_ to join ANBU?” Fear grips the blonde by the throat at the thought. At T&I she runs into many of Konoha’s masked elite throughout her work, day in, day out. Few masks she recognises and even less she can call by their code name. The majority of the animal masks passing her day by day in the corridors she never sees more than once. They vanish from her mind as quickly as they seem to vanish from this world. Sakura _cannot_ join them; not on her watch.

“No! Of course not!” The medic sputters defensively, genuinely offended by the accusation, but Ino only breathes a deep sigh of relief. “Over my dead body would I strap one of those masks on.”

“Then why are we even arguing about this?” Ino whines agitatedly and raises her hands in an exasperated manner.

“We’re not,” Sakura declares as if it’s her decision to make and takes a bite of her yakisoba. “Also, not _all_ ANBU are creepy. Yamato-taichou isn’t creepy.”

“ _Sakura_ ,” the blonde warns in a clipped tone to which the medic only raises her hands in surrender. “And the jury is still out on that one. He isn’t _not_ creepy either.”

Now it’s Sakura’s turn to scowl and point her chopsticks accusingly at the blonde still narrowing her azure eyes at her. “Is that why you made out with him on New Year’s Eve?”

Once more Ino’s set of cutlery clatters on the table and instinctively Sakura holds down her plate as well as the table, in plain fear of Ino just flipping the whole thing in a fit of rage and an attempt to distract. She only has fifteen minutes left of her lunch break, there is no time to apologise profusely to the waiter _and_ get a new meal.

Lucky for her, Ino stays calm. Or at least pretends to as she sucks in a deep, measured breath before pursing her lips and hissing haughtily, “Do you really want to get started on that topic, Haruno?”

For a long moment the rosette holds the icy blue gaze giving her frostbite across the table bravely, weighing her options one by one before she eventually makes her decision. Sakura has no doubt that she might actually have more dirt on Ino than the other way around, but again, her lunch break is passing by and she’ll need all the mental energy she has left for the rest of her shift. With a shrug, she averts her gaze back to her plate and Ino nods self-assuredly. “Thought so.”

The little remark makes Sakura grind her jaw, but she controls her features and ignores the clear bait in favour of her noodles. She pointedly avoids looking at Ino, but as the conversation comes to a lull again, she knows that they share a thought: _The ANBU are still there, the feeling of being watched has not vanished._

The back of her neck prickles uncomfortably and instinctually Sakura feels for any chakra signatures around her, belonging to someone that she can neither see nor identify. Out of the corner of her eye she can spy Ino’s concentrated scowl as she too seeks to pick up on anything out of the ordinary. Both kunoichi come up empty. _Of course—_ they’re _ANBU._ It’s their job to be invisible.

In un-communicated unison they both rest their chopsticks and their voices clash as they each hurry to say, “I need to get back to work.” They almost laugh, but the chuckle escaping them is awkward and lodges in their throats and ribs uncomfortably.

As they make their way back out onto the street, Ino places her hand softly on her best friend’s arm. As gentle as the gesture may be, her words make Sakura grimace. “No offence, Forehead, but as long as you’re being shadowed, I’ll keep eating in the office. I could barely get anything down, it’s too weird.”

“So much for ‘through thick and thin’, huh? Thought you wanted to go on a diet anyway,” the medic snorts a little irritatedly, to which Ino throws her a pointed glare.

“Figure it out,” she commands bossily, but Sakura still picks up on the worry nestled deep down beneath the bark. It’s comforting and if Sakura would be honest with herself, she would realize just how sick and tired she is of feeling watched all hours of the day. _That level of commitment is seriously overkill. What kind of prowess do they think I’m going to demonstrate under the shower? How well I can ride my shower head? Jeez._ Not even that she could show off lately, too unnerved by the team on her heels to do _anything_ to relieve pressure.

“Fine,” she softens eventually and Ino drops her hand from her arm with a pleased smile. “I’ll talk to Tsunade and ask her to make them back the fuck off.”

“Good,” the blonde triumphs and ruffles Sakura’s hair, blatantly ignoring her protests on behalf of her hairstyle. “Once you’re free of tweedledee and tweedledum we need to get sloppy drunk.”

It may very well be her imagination, but at the minimally derogatory pet names Sakura feels a little cold and pulls a grimace that can almost be called a stiff smile, “Ino, I don’t think you should call th— Wait. Why do we need to get sloppy drunk?”

Ino doesn’t answer for a heartbeat and instead shrugs when she takes a step down the road, headed back to T&I and opposite to the hospital. “Maybe because kissing wasn’t the only thing I did on New Year’s Eve.”

“ _What!_ ” Sakura gapes but the blonde is already near skipping down the road, faster out of her reach than the medic can blink, as Ino throws a last cheery ‘ _ok, bye!_ ’ over her shoulder.

Stunned and with her mind reeling, Sakura stays back alone on the bustling road. Well, alone with her ANBU tag team. Who, unknown to her, quietly snort into their kabuki masks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so what did you think so far? I can tell you, the second chapter will be quite steamy already 👀


	2. tag, you’re it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man I am so happy over the awesome response I got from you guys after the first chapter, I’m so excited to share this one with you!
> 
> really trying to set the sultry tone for the fic with this chapter so I hope you enjoy 👀
> 
> huge thanks again to AmayaNoAkatsuki and JuicyDangler for being such awesome betas! You really improved this chapter 10 fold and I’m so so glad to have you guys <3

Sakura pants wet and heavy like a dog into the humid summer evening as she props herself up with her sore palms on her knees for support. Bent over with her shoulders raised almost to her ears, she squeezes her eyes shut against the stinging bright caress of the setting sun on the horizon, bathing Konoha and its surrounding forests into golden light and long shadows. She does not care for the peaceful imagery beyond her diameter of destruction and instead concentrates on the burn in her lungs and the sweat coating every inch of her weary body. Her spandex shorts are soaked and cling to her like a second skin much like the lightweight sports bra she wore by chance under her hospital clothes today. When she got dressed at the crack of dawn she had no intentions of hitting the training grounds tonight or doing _any_ strenuous activity, but as fate has it she’s just as behind on her laundry as she is on her training.

Sweat rolls down her back in thick droplets from where her hair is wet and matted, clinging to her neck and her spine cracks uncomfortably as Sakura straightens again and bends backwards—she can practically hear her shower scream out to her desperately from all the way across the village. After the brutal shift she had and how far she pushed her neglected body tonight, it’s only deserved really, to reward herself with a steaming hot downpour as soon as she comes home. Stretching her arms above her head she drags her tired feet over the rubble she created to the pile of her abandoned clothes. The lab coat, the wrap dress she chose this morning, and her heeled boots. Haphazardly scattered the same way she left them when she rushed here and stripped with each step. Maybe it was the seasoned jōnin dying under her fingertips today or maybe it was the overbearing weight of the constant surveillance she’s been under since over a month, but when she practically fled the hospital today, Sakura felt like she couldn’t breathe. She needed _out_ , to use her hands again, to hone her body and strength and remind herself of everything she is capable of even when she feels so incredibly powerless.

As she dug her fingers into her garments and tore them practically off her heated skin, she could still feel their eyes on her. Hidden in the brush or the shadows or _wherever,_ Sakura couldn’t give less of a fuck from where they were spying on her, or even _that_ they were keeping their eye on her. They watch her in her own home even when she is asleep, there’s nothing sacred, hidden or more private happening here than they have already seen. So she paid them no mind, didn’t spare the trees lining the clearing even a single withering glance before she flexed her hands and let her knuckles carve a groaning canyon into the ground when she struck the earth.

Now she reaches out for her dress first, being the last item to have come off, but her fingertips never even brush the light linen. Her whole body freezes, taut as a bow, mid-motion at the very clear rustle of leaves behind her. This is not the wind, nor some animals scampering out now that the coast is clear. _No_. It is _them_. She can feel it in the prick at the back of her neck, can taste it in the air at the base of her tongue.

The corners of her mouth twitch suddenly upward in a near grin and Sakura has to sink her teeth into her bottom lip to keep it from spreading wide. They are still her superiors in rank, being the Godaime’s apprentice be damned. She must be respectful, and laughing at their final decision to show from their voyeuristic place in the balconies is not respectful. But in all honesty, they could’ve chosen a much better time. One where she isn’t in practically her underwear or caked with sweat and dirt as she is now. Straightening back into a stand, Sakura wipes the back of her hand haphazardly across her face, brushing sweaty strands sticking to her forehead away in a feeble attempt to make herself at least somewhat presentable. Not that either she or they should care for her appearance.

The two ANBU have been on her mind in one way or another for so long already, a month feeling easily like a year, that she can’t help but be surprised when her breath still catches in her throat at the sight of them. They’re not in sync whatsoever as they step out from between the trees at the edge of the field, yet it is clear as day that they are a _unit_ , and likely have been for a long, long time. There is simple fluidity in the way they move with each other and their space, and Sakura begins to realise just why so many of her colleagues fear the silent shadows of the village in one way or another. Once you do get to see them, they are an intimidating sight, carrying an aura around them that makes even Sakura feel a little smaller all by herself. Her barely calmed down heartbeat begins to flutter anew as they come closer and with every step her breath feels more and more shallow. In an effort to centre herself and ground her breathing she focuses on the purely physical aspects of the team approaching her—standing out the most are naturally their hand-painted kabuki masks.

Since Sakura never had _any_ interest whatsoever in joining ANBU, she never really bothered to do her research on their customs and traditions. It wouldn’t help her now either— _why do I need help anyway?_ —yet she’s kind of kicking herself for it now. Darkly she recalls Ino telling her once that the most personal thing about them are their kabuki masks; painted by hand by the wearer and _never_ to be reused. _A mask dies with its owner._ If you only see a mask once and never again, then the specific agent is either very good at their job or very dead.

_Will I see these masks ever again?_ A voice whispers through the droning static in her mind as her eyes flit from one to the other and back again, trying her hardest to spy every detail and memorize it in great clarity.

Clinical as she is, Sakura breaks the rest of them down to their basic stats within fractions of a second. Same height, fairly similar build, the left of the two approaching her perhaps a smidge broader in the shoulders but neither of the two is particularly lanky or scrawly. If she could see their faces she might be able to spy their age closer, but she has a feeling that neither of them is still in their twenties. Perhaps it is the calm air surrounding them or their near lazy gait as they close the distance that gives her the feeling that they are older, but Sakura reasons quickly with herself that she has no way of knowing. That she may very well be wrong altogether and that it could just as well be part of their training. The closer they come, the better of a view of their masks she is getting and once more her breath nearly hitches—she never thought battle disguises could be so _beautiful_.

Sharp ears and feline features painted in bright, poppy red and gentle accents of purple draw her eye to the kitsune mask of the right agent first and her pulse skyrockets when she meets the dark gaze coming from behind it. He is too far away still for her to make genuine eye contact, but she can _feel_ his stare. It burns her straight to the bone like a darting flame. Swallowing down a flutter of sudden anxiety, her sage green eyes flit to the decidedly more relaxed agent on the left, hiding cleverly behind a cheekily grinning tanuki mask painted with flowing streaks of light blue and accents on the chin of grey. Maybe if she makes it out of this with her wits together, she should take the time to look up the meanings behind the colours.

The gravel of the now upturned field crunches beneath their sandals when they come to a halt and Sakura barely has the time to recognise the holster clipped around Kitsune’s shoulders to belong to a tanto, when a chuckle strikes all thought in her mind silent.

She can’t pinpoint which one of the two it is coming from, but it is _dark_ and Sakura can’t suppress the shiver rolling down her spine like rain off the mountains in spring. A flippant remark stings the tip of her tongue, but she knows better than to let it past the threshold of her teeth. This is not the time to be mouthy, not the company to be tongue in cheek with.

“Haruno-san. We’ve been watching you,” Tanuki says calmly and Sakura isn’t surprised at the evenness of his tone. It’s almost bland really; completely devoid of emotion or any other identifying cadence, as is drilled into them as part of their anonymity training. _Suppress all traces of your personality to protect yourself, the team and the mission._ She stiffens at his words nevertheless and shifts her weight restlessly as her eyes narrow. They have come to a halt, still a good fifteen feet away and frankly, Sakura doesn't mind a little bit of a distance.

“I know,” she bites and immediately regrets her tone. It was meant to be matter of factly, but even she can hear Ino-worthy-levels of haughtiness colour her voice to overplay the crack of it.

It rings as clear in her ears as it does in the ears of the two shinobi across her. Kitsune’s shoulders flex under the sleeveless undershirt and breastplate, and again she hears that dark rumbling chuckle. Now she can place that it definitely came from him, but it is little relief to her as the hair on the back of her neck stands up straight anyway.

“Of course you do,” Tanuki says again, and Sakura barely keeps herself from frowning. He does not make nearly as much of an effort any longer to stay neutral—his voice is nearly teasing and somehow it begins to sound familiar to her. It’s not foreign at all, but her brain has trouble assigning a face to the pleasant voice.

When silence settles between them and neither follow their statement up, Sakura squares her shoulders. She isn’t sure if this is the point where she is meant to speak again, if she is even _allowed_ to and neither of the two opposite her make the decision any easier.

_Am I supposed to prod? Inquire about their reasoning?_

Her mind runs at a million miles a minute and the calculations taking place behind her irises are clear as day to the seasoned team. Behind his mask, Tanuki can’t help but grin. The little line forming between her eyebrows as she furrows them is _really_ charming in his eyes.

Her jaw grinds and she seems to have come to a decision, a carefully crafted choice of words rolling around her palate, ready to spill like raindrops off her plush pout, but they never get the chance. Just when she parts her lips to speak she is cut off by Kitsune and his thick, low grumble. It sends her heart into her throat and strikes her with a bolt of white hot fear.

His voice is dark and roiling as thunder, and just as familiar, “So, you think we do a ‘ _sloppy ass job_ ’, Haruno?”

The words roll down her spine like ice cubes and Sakura sucks in a sharp breath. She knew already when she spoke, that it was an _awful_ choice to egg them on. She can hardly blame her misjudgement on two double shifts back to back, exhaustion the reason that she hadn’t been quite within her senses. A weak excuse. Now she has to pay the price for that.

Her eyes can’t keep up with everything that happens next. They don’t speak, they don’t even _look_ at each other. They just _happen,_ and Sakura is stuck to only watch—transfixed and bewitched by her assailants. The dull crack of their outer knuckles knocking against each other in what seems to be a well practiced gesture, a starting signal of sorts, is the last sound Sakura hears before their ambush on her starts. The soft bump of bone against bone thunders in her ears.

Where she was lost before on the matter of their identities, Sakura now gains clarity at lightning speed with their attack. It hits her like a freight train and from one second to the next, she knows _exactly_ who her opponents are. Her heart hammers against her chest and all the softly chirping noises of dusk drown in the rushing of blood in her ears. In the blink of an eye Kitsune vanishes into thin air, a bare _flicker_ , and Sakura pants. The knowledge of who is behind the fox mask hits her like a sledgehammer— _Shunshin no Shisui._

Fucking _Uchiha Shisui_ is one of the ANBU scouting her out of all people, and then they are out to _attack?_ Oh _no._ This is a fucking test and Sakura curses them for ambushing her after a training session of this calibre. Her chakra reserves are near depleted and she could cry at the screaming of her muscles when she breaks out of her stupor to duck and roll away from the attack being thrown her way from the other ANBU left in her field of vision. She barely has time to dodge the barrage of senbon piercing the air just where her flank was seconds ago and her blood freezes in her veins when the realization hits whose pretty face hides behind the grinning Tanuki mask.

No wonder the voice sounded so familiar to her. Just a couple months ago, that exact voice had _very_ drunkenly whispered some _very_ tempting, dirty promises into her ear—promises she had not taken him up on just then, and as it is right now, Sakura can’t honestly say if that was a good or a bad choice.

Everything happens so fast around her, she feels like she is trapped in Kakashi’s swirl of leaves whenever he shunshins out of her grasp once again, and it makes her _sick_. Her hair whips around her to and fro with every frantic movement of her head as she catches a spare glance of Kitsune’s mask in her peripheral, yet every time she tries to concentrate on him, between dodging Tanuki and his fast paced barrage of attacks, he’s a mere _flicker_ in the wind. No more than the heat waves above Suna’s desert.

Sakura feels dizzy and her breath is shallow in her chest as she spins around and around on her axis, adamant to keep her guard up and not disappoint her shishou. Dodge. Dodge. Dodge. Is what she had drilled into her so long ago and Sakura has not forgotten; but she is tired already and if she can’t get a hit on them any time soon, she will not outlast them. Her style of fighting is hardly compatible with two opponents that seem to slip through her fingers like water—Shisui keeps _literally_ flickering in and out of her vision while Genma’s senbon seem to come from just about every direction of the wind.

Just when she thinks their movements are beginning to slow and she cocks her elbow back to at least shatter the ground enough for her to shake up their footing, a weighty feeling like lead begins to drag at her limbs and Sakura has the stray idea that her entire body is _melting_. It’s hot, but not _that_ hot, yet she feels like wax on a tin roof. As though her flesh is rotting off her bones right where she stands, and just to confirm she drops her gaze from the whipping heads of hair and porcelain jumping in constellations around her. She stares in horror at the image of her wrist coming clean of her muscle, down to the bone under her gloves. She watches for hardly a couple seconds before she identifies the feeble, spider web like chakra threads enveloping her tightly as shibari in this macabre genjutsu and her now skeletal hands fly into the hand seal for release without giving it a second thought. The stupor breaks like a crystal bubble around her and Sakura comes off kilter. The chakra depletion and exhaustion of pulling too many shifts too close back to back work together to nearly drag her off her feet.

She may have broken the exceedingly sneaky genjutsu that only an Uchiha could’ve cast very quickly, yet it still wasn’t fast enough. The medic stumbles free of the fog only to be greeted by Tanuki’s elbow burying itself into her solar plexus, causing her to double over as he swipes her off her feet for good by hooking his foot around her ankle in a hard pull. With a dull smack she lands flat on her back, knocking all air from her lungs and banging her skull onto the hard packed dirt. The whirr of iron cutting the air sets her body into motion even before her vision clears from the black spots and the nausea, and she’s rolling over, narrowly avoiding a kunai through her shoulder. These two assholes are _playing_ with her in a vulnerable moment like a cat toying with a mouse and Sakura has had fucking _enough_.

Her rage roils through her veins like lava and mobilizes every ounce of energy she has left in herself as she braces onto her bruised and scratched-up knees. She’s not a ping pong ball to be tossed back and forth between them, and they should know better than to try that with her. Along with her fury Sakura channels her chakra into her palms as she raises herself up onto her protesting knees. Like a preacher she bears them flat down onto the earth as though in prayer and the creak of the ground beneath her sounds like the groan of a titan from the old world. It tips a good chunk of the hard, dry soil like a shard up in front of her and with a lion-like roar she grips the jagged edge and flings it like a discus in the direction where she spies Tanuki struggling to keep his footing from the corner of her eye. She watches proudly with blazing green eyes as he fails to dodge it seamlessly and is propelled into the woodwork behind him. Her triumph is short-lived however when Kitsune’s rough, dark voice sounds at her ear. It sends a violent shiver down her spine and Sakura gasps as if he had touched her skin with lightning. The shiver runs deep and low into her belly and frankly she isn’t sure if the violent flipping of her stomach is entirely due to adrenaline only, but this is hardly the time and place. _Nor the right person to feel this way over._

“Tag, you’re it,” Shisui almost laughs, voice carried by euphoria and the joy in his craft. Her quite visceral reaction to him and his actions excites him beyond reason. It kind of makes him want to take a bite out of her. Eat her like she is Little Red Riding Hood and he is the big bad wolf—not an idea he’d ever thought he would connect with her, but then again he never thought Sakura would ever be quite so... _responsive._

If it didn’t make her feel completely insane Sakura would swear that she could _hear_ his grin in his tone. A dirty, toothy one at that. As Sakura whirls around to land a punch straight through the carefully hand painted Kitsune mask, she falters mid rotation at an unfamiliar sensation that sucks the air out of her lungs in a way that only happened to her once before. The edge of Kitsune’s tanto just barely skims across the skin of her back in a delicate curve—not deep enough to draw a solid trickle of blood, but enough to raise goose bumps all across her body from her chest outward. Her heart stutters under the new sense of thrill it elicits in her and her brain struggles to catch up. _This is wrong—this is_ so fucking _wrong! Not the time and place_ at all, _focus, Haruno!_

Kitsune’s unorthodox attack made her completely forget about Tanuki at the edge of the clearing; much to his advantage as he worked his way out of the underbrush and recovered easily in the meantime. Only left on the sidelines to watch her eyes grow wide and her lips part in a wet pant at his partner’s tactic. If he wasn’t knee deep into the same fight, he might think Shisui touched her in an entirely different way to inspire this expression on her face. Spying his opening in her distraction, he flings a handful of shuriken her way as easily as a painter flicks a brush. Sakura dodges the whirr of sharp iron hurled her way just barely, the sharp edges skimming her skin like pond skaters on the water surface while she watches with hazy eyes as his broad form follows the long range attack. He closes in on her too fast and he almost pities her. She is just too exhausted and too tired to keep up—his heart strings pull tight knowing how long her day has been, but Shisui has no mercy for it. He wanted to confront her _tonight_. _Now._ She wants to be impertinent and defiant? He said he’ll show her just how far that gets her on the force—or on _his_ _team_ for that matter _._

She never sees Genma reach her. Her whole world spins and shakes as though Sakura is trapped in a snow globe and the entire evening's confusion peaks in a blurry fog along with her vision. Kitsune is everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and before her mind can catch up through her fatigue and processing of all this influx of information, she suddenly feels herself meeting the earth in a hard painful crash. Her range of view is a mere blur of grinning kabuki masks and warm muscles before she is pressed into the ground face first.

She gasps against her restrained ribcage and even gives a low moan of pain as someone’s knee digs fiercely into her back right between her shoulder blades as her hands are caught by her wrists behind her back. Like a rabbit hunted down she is trapped and feels every bit the prey that they are making her. _Pursued and conquered_. Her vision is near blurry as she pants into the soil, still reeling from being overwhelmed so stupidly easily, but as she begins to process the situation, she feels her skin still prickle with another sensation. Another feeling she is all too familiar with. One that is amplified beyond measure when she hears a soft, deep shushing at her ear. Genma’s breath in her hair, his hand planted on the ground beside her head.

The heat that now roils within her has nothing to do with the adrenaline of the fight, yet it consumes her all the same. _Just what she needed._ As if this wasn’t all too confusing enough on its own.

Her mind literally swims as she tries to pick apart her feelings. Between trying to ignore the growing slick ache settling in her loins as it fights fiercely against the shame burning her cheeks from being overwhelmed with so much ease, it’s kind of hard to concentrate on the here and now. Sakura only snaps to attention when the sudden sharpness of a tanto’s blade pricks at the underside of her chin. The gravel crunches and instinctively she directs her seafoam green eyes, glassy and glazed over with exhaustion, upward toward the noise, only to suck in a sharp breath as she is met with the sight of Kitsune in front of her as he crouches down. The touch of his gloved fingertips beneath her chin to replace the blade, sends a shiver down her spine. Immediately it reminds her sorely of the flipping of her stomach and apparently Tanuki’s knee still digging into her back, pressing her chest down into the earth. His hands are soft in their leather gloves, as is his touch, and without her express permission Sakura parts her lips gently in a pant bordering on a sigh. Shisui has to swallow hard at her soft little noise, ignoring the urge to shift his weight as the sound travels straight down to beneath his belt. As he cocks his head and examines her, pinned secure under his teammate the thought crosses his mind that if this was different circumstances, this could be a whole lot of _fun_.

While seemingly defeated, Sakura is _never_ just what meets the eye. Even if Shisui hadn’t been too on board with her at the beginning, he has a certain respect for her and knows that Sakura never gives up and especially not this easily. So when her eyes begin to narrow until she fully glares up at him, the Uchiha is not surprised in the least. The opposite in fact—he is _delighted_. This is what convinced him about her, that neverending fight. Her _spirit_. He really has to commend Genma, the tokujō had seen this in her for quite a while and fallen for her fervour not just on the battlefield. With her eyes blazing pine green up at him now, Shisui really can’t fault him for trying his luck after Kakashi fumbled the literal gift she had graced him with.

Even with the mask hiding any evidence of emotion from her, Sakura has no doubt that Shisui is giving her some form of an impish expression one way or another and it makes her skin flush with heat. Through the fog clouding her mind, her rage is elbowing its way to the surface hard and fast, and she is _angry_. Enraged to be so bound, so helpless, so not herself—because if Sakura is one thing, it is forever _defiant_. Shisui has to be honest with himself, he finds this quality of hers downright beguiling, and hidden behind the wolfishly grinning mask he can’t help but bite his lip himself when he swipes his thumb over her chin first, then her bottom lip. Her breath stutters.

His voice is soft as thunder and her skin burns where both he and his partner touch her when he asks, “Do you yield?”

It’s an empty peace offering made to the already bound prey. It _insults_ her.

“No,” she spits and nearly bares her teeth, trying feebly to buck Tanuki off her back but he holds steady with his even weight.

“Easy, princess,” Genma soothes, his voice at first smooth as the whiskey he likes to drink, yet she can hear the rough chuckle following in his throat like the rocks of ice in his glass, and it does nothing to cool down the inferno of inappropriate arousal burning her body from the inside. Sakura refuses to be silenced so easily though and only settles at last when Genma’s second hand lifts off the ground and places itself on the back of her neck. Holding her down as if to tame her like a wild steed his hand is firm, yet beneath her hair she can feel his thumb draw slow circles against her skin and without her express permission her body relaxes into submission far too soon. She only huffs through her nose as Kitsune’s grip turns suddenly hard on her chin along with his voice.

“It’s just a spar, Haruno,” his tone is light but his voice is dark and Sakura’s breath shallows to dizzying levels as her pupils blow wide. “I’m asking you only one more time, do you understand that?”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, the searing pine green glower she gives him through the eye holes of his mask enough to make his shoulders feel tight under the strain of containing himself. None of this was planned—neither for him nor for Genma, but Shisui has no doubt whatsoever that they are all feeling the tension hanging so thickly between them. He’d be surprised in fact, if Genma _couldn’t_ smell her, because he certainly can. His eyes leave her flushed face and rosy lips barely for a second as he exchanges a lightning fast glance with his teammate. He doesn’t need to see his face to know that he is grinning wide and filthy behind the painted porcelain; he enjoys this just as much as him and Shisui’s heart pumps hard with excitement.

Turning back to Sakura, he licks his lips quickly before he nearly growls, “ _Sakura_ , do you yield?”

Her name tastes like bliss on his tongue and he can practically see the breath hitch in her throat. To both their surprise though, Sakura doesn’t answer for a long moment, instead her eyes flutter shut. Both ANBU wait with bated breath for her to speak, or do _anything_ , until eventually the kunoichi swallows and relaxes her shoulders fully. When she finally lifts her gaze again looking up at Shisui through her lashes, it is his turn to hold his breath and his chest strains with unbridled desire striking him like lightning.

Her voice, soft and smokey and so far from her usually clinically neutral tone it’s laughable, even makes Genma shift on her back restlessly. And he can’t even see the bewitchingly sinful look in her eyes when she breathes, “ _Yes_ , I yield.”

Pleased and swelling with pride at her choice, Shisui smirks behind his mask and feather lightly runs his thumb over the corner of her mouth. Sakura’s ears feel like they are filled with cotton, but his dark rumble of praise reaches her clear as day. “ _Good girl_.”

The sound has hardly rung out when he is gone already; a mere flicker of light tattling on him having been there at all in the first place. She’d think all this was a dream if there wasn’t still the aching pressure on her back reminding her of the second part of the devastating duo. Sakura welcomes it, remembering all too clearly who is keeping her pinned and all the sweet nothings he’d murmured into her hair at the bar, at a time that now seems millennia ago.

Graciously Genma lifts his knee from between her shoulder blades, but the tension does not release in the slightest. She can feel his bare lips at her ear and she hardly manages to bite back a whined gasp at the feeling of skin on skin. “I don’t mind you pinned under me like this, Sakura-chan. Not at all. A shame we never made good on our plans when we had the chance. Now it’s all business.”

_How can_ this _ever be ‘all business’?_ She’s barely aware of her own strangled sigh escaping past parted lips as his hands remain on the back of her neck and her wrists, searing her skin wherever his gloves touch.

Maybe it’s only the relief that makes her blood run cold as ice at his next words, but Sakura feels suddenly void of any heat when he speaks next.

“Will you do something for me, sweetheart?” Like Shisui before, he doesn’t wait for her answer, only pauses to slide his mask back down his face as he lets go of her neck and only keeps her secure at the wrists. “Send our regards to Kakashi. Tell him he was _so_ wrong about you.”

In a fraction of a second the vague pressure of his body hovering over her still lifts and her wrists are let go. Immediately she scrambles. But with her limbs stiff and her stomach flipping in tapering off arousal, Genma’s too fast for her, and he is gone before she can twist onto her knees.

The heat making her body feel heavy and thick like molasses quickly liquifies and flares into full blown fury as his words begin to sink in though. _How dare he? How dare_ **_any_ ** _of them!_

_What the_ **_fuck_ ** _did Kakashi say this time about her? Who the hell does he think he is making statements about her anyway? And who the hell do_ **_they_ ** _think he is, to talk to him about_ **_her_** _?_ Gods, she is sick of the men in this village. She understands Tsunade more and more, day by day. Maybe she _should_ pick up drinking.

This time when she moves to stomp home, Sakura doesn’t bother with getting dressed. She snatches her clothes off the ground and breaks into a near sprint toward her home.

* * *

  
Her own treatment at home with herself is no less rough than that of her personal ANBU brigade ambushing her earlier that night. Her spandex shorts lie ripped at the seams in the corner of her bathroom besides her hamper and her sports bra found a pitiful grave, sliced away with chakra scalpels in her trash can. The near boiling hot water of her shower spray feels practically cool against her still flushed skin as she washes and scrubs away the dirt, the fatigue, the fury and the remaining bits of hospital grime with her loofah and obnoxiously floral smelling shower gel. If she still wrote diary entries like a schoolgirl, then today would be filling a whole spread of pages. Like a bad drama on TV, today had it _all_ —exhaustion, grief, joy, anger and sexual tension.

Much to her chagrin, she’d have to write the latter two in big bold letters. With glitter.

Well, there’s no confusion on the _anger_ part. That she knows. Frustration and rage have been her constant companions for quite some time now; a little too often in the past year, but with that she can deal. No, the confusing part comes in when she dances her fingers down along her taut belly and swipes along the apex of her thighs, finding sticky evidence of the other beast that that embarrassing spar from hell roiled within her.

It’s... been a while since Sakura has invited someone else into her bed. The man she had set her sights on had rejected her crushingly in the year before. All after dancing a fairly painful back and forth with her, that got quite heated more than once, only for him to back out like a coward at the very last moment when things got _intimate. Heartfelt._ She’d never admit it to anyone other than Ino, but Sakura has since been a little soured on men. Genma’s attention and offer had been invitingly enough and certainly _tempting_ , but at the time it had still simply been too soon and all events of the day considered, Sakura is still unsure if that wasn’t actually a very smart choice then.

Even without having engaged with him, her mind had had no issue of wandering in that exact direction when his weight pressed her down into the earth—or perhaps that was due to Shisui?

_God_ , _that’s it’s whole own issue._

Sakura leans to the cool tile of her shower wall and revels in the massage of the hard water stream beating down on her back; her teeth sinking gently into her lower lip as her eyes slide shut. Thinking too hard about this is bound to give her a headache and her skull is still throbbing from when Genma swept her off her feet in a less than romantic manner. She should put her mind onto other things but Sakura just can’t seem to wrangle her body into submission the same way Genma could earlier. Her fingertips still dance across the tender skin of the inside of her thighs and she can’t help but nearly flinch into her touch when her own knuckles brush her folds growing slick again.

Behind closed eyes she now sees that Kitsune mask peering down at her again with its wide foxy grin, hiding the pretty boyish face she knows well behind it expertly, and her chest feels tight again as her rosebud like nipples pebble with a shiver. Warmth pools in her lower belly like a hot spring.

All issues of her current situation with ANBU aside, Sakura had sworn herself to never go for an Uchiha again after that debacle in her teens with Sasuke. _God, I really haven’t had good luck with men, have I?_ Sure, Sasuke may be the most emotionally underdeveloped of the bunch, but the experience burned her enough to not allow herself even a lingering glance in neither the direction of his older brother nor his cousin. No matter how attractive they were, they were off limits. No sweet curls and twinkling eyes could distract or seduce her. Differently to her and Genma, Shisui and her had been on a merely friendly acquaintance basis. Nothing more—well, up until now. Sakura doesn’t know how to feel about it.

All she can think of right now is the low baritone of his voice. The grumble that cursed through her bones like thunder and struck her right between her legs like lightning with an ache she’s suppressed for a long time. Before Sakura really knows what she's doing, her fingertips are already slipping along the soft skin of her feminine folds, brushing the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath a patch of soaked pink curls with well accustomed expertise. A panted sigh spills into the steam filled bathroom and she knows her window is open. The medic can’t help the stray thought: _Are they still watching her? Are they listening?_ Her cheeks flush and her head rolls on her shoulders as she parts her legs to her own touch; chasing phantom sensations of the weight on her back and the gentle touch on her chin paired so exquisitely with their demands.

Hidden among the village’s shadows cloaked in nightfall, both Genma and Shisui feel stuck in place all of a sudden. Frozen in their hiding spot as both men stare through the bathroom window, opened wide to the July air. Both their mouths run dry, and their chest and pants fit tighter with every sigh reaching them. Their hiding place among the rooftops cannot be spied from Sakura’s glass shower, but even if so—how would she see them with her eyes closed and her face scrunched in pleasure?

Genma is the first to break character as he shoves up the tanuki mask and pins his hair back consequently. When he meets Shisui’s gaze as he follows suit, they both wear the same expression of disbelief and hesitation.

“Is she—”

“Should we—”

Well, should they what? _Go? Stop?_

_...Join?_

Shisui’s brow twitches nervously inward in the same manner that Genma is so familiar with whenever he is concentrating hard, calculating their next move or strategy. It almost feels like battle to him again, especially with the adrenaline quickly pumping through his veins once more and Genma awaits his captain’s decision with his heart hammering against his sternum. When really, he _shouldn’t_. This shouldn’t even be a question, they shouldn’t watch her shower in the first place and they shouldn’t have ever pulled anything of the likes of what they had on the training grounds. That was a situation that took a life of its own and that’s exactly where it should have ended.

But it didn’t really, did it? When a soft moan, a near _whimper_ , filters out from the steam filled bathroom, both soft brown and cardinal red eyes flutter shut momentarily and Genma goes so far as to pull his mask clean off his head as he rests his forehead on the cooling brick of the building he leans against. Her voice is as powerful as a siren’s song and they know that they are both hopeless victims to it, as much as she was victim to them not even an hour ago. Genma licks his lips hastily as he catches Shisui’s gaze again and all he finds in the equally troubled look of his friend is understanding. A mutual conclusion that draws a shared decision in silence.

White knuckling the tile of the low roof beside him, Shisui drags his eyes back to the little window, sparing a glance at the glass cubicle inside with its siren. His Sharingan spins lazily, drinking in this sinful experience of a lifetime greedily as he hears his teammate draw a controlled breath through his nose before his teeth click around metal.

It’s a first for her to desire two men at the same time, but every memory of that blur of an evening makes her squeeze around nothing and she can feel her trembling fingers become coated in her own slick faster than ever before as she recalls every second. It’s not possible for her to separate either of the two or her desire for them, Sakura finds absently as her index and middle finger begin to draw firm circles around her clitoris. When she tries to zero her attention in on either of them, her fingers stutter and she loses her rhythm until she lets her imagination drift again. With that blatant oral fixation—what would Genma’s mouth feel like against her? When she pictures his full lips engulfing her clit, she cannot shake the image of Shisui holding her against his chest, growling dirty nothings against her ear, her neck and playing with her hair. Directing her reactions, tag teaming her in bed in the same way they did on the field. _Surely, they’d be a good team?_

The vision it inspires in her is so visceral, Sakura’s knees nearly buckle as her fingers pick up the pace. Even over the water the sounds spilling from her mouth and between her legs ring clear and frankly, if they _are_ watching, she sees no point in holding back. Her mind is flooded with feelings and images of two sets of hands holding her up, ghosting over her skin and pulling and dragging her roughly. Sakura would hardly ever admit it to anyone but herself, but she absolutely revelled in the way Shisui spoke to her.

Would he get rougher with her if she defied him? Would Genma soothe her or join in? The thought alone makes her pant and she grows greedy as she slips her fingers lower, teasing her pliable entrance before losing her patience and sinking two fingers at once into herself. Knowing herself better than any man ever could, she finds the sensitive rough spot at the upper wall nearly immediately and her chest shakes as she crooks her fingers in a come hither motion.

Without a conscious thought, Shisui has brought his knuckles up to his lips, now digging his teeth almost hard enough into them to draw blood, just to keep from growling when Sakura sinks onto her own hand. A heartful low “ _fuck_ ” to his left tells him that his teammate is caught in the same struggle and the Uchiha almost has the urge to laugh.

This entire situation is absurd and quite frankly _wrong_ , especially considering that they are still looking to scout her and he really should be calling this off as captain. Force them back to headquarters, call it a day and look for somebody else to take on, yet when Shisui opens his mouth, all that comes out is a hoarse, “What do you think she’s thinking about?”

The answer comes as a plain hum, a halfway point between a chuckle and a snort, before Genma swirls his senbon along his teeth from left to right and murmurs, “Oh, I think you and I both know exactly what she’s thinking of.” The brunet pauses for a moment before he releases a shaky breath and sneaks a quick glimpse at his friend. “Would you? Do what she’s thinking of?”

Shisui does not have to wonder long, barely a second rings between his and Genma’s voice before he answers without a trace of hesitation or doubt, “Yes, I would.” He never would have thought this before. One on one had always been his favourite in any circumstance, be it in battle or in the bedroom. But now? Now he isn’t so sure of that anymore. Tonight changed something in him. Tonight changed _everything_. 

As Sakura pumps her fingers languidly in and out of her, imagining that they belong to someone else entirely, her mind clouds with all sorts of questions. Did they plan this beforehand, is this why they scouted her? Which one of them is the gentler lover, which one is rough? Who likes to watch her more, Shisui or Genma? The last thought crosses her mind when she defies the urge of her head feeling like lead to drop forward, and instead she bares her neck and panting chest as she casts a hazy look out of the lightly fogged up window. Of course she can’t see the white of the masks, nor any other glimpse of theirs even if they are doing a considerably _sloppy ass job,_ but she doesn’t need to. As so often in the past weeks, Sakura can _feel_ their gaze on her.

The base of her palm presses against her clit and unbidden the medic grinds against her own hand, enveloping herself in her own cries and moans and the steam of the still hot water. As her eyes flutter she thinks she can almost see both their faces, both _masks_ , flitting in and out of her vision as if they shunshin in and out of her bathroom and Sakura can feel herself squeeze unbearably tightly around her own fingers.

A strangled sob escapes her throat and shakes her chest as her thighs quiver under her weight, when her orgasm breaks over her like the first thunder of a storm. No name passes over her lips in favour of a wordless cry, after all how ever could she choose between them?

Blind and engulfed in white hot bliss she lazily rides her orgasm out against her palm with her eyes cast glassily out across the rooftops visible from her window. If they watched her, they better enjoyed the show because this was the first and last time. With slow, soft movements, Sakura finishes her wash up and falls into bed sated and exhausted. The sting of shame is cushioned too thickly by her afterglow, drowsiness dragging on her and her muscles finally relaxing as she soothes them with a very frugal amount of chakra before giving herself over to the softness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading and I’d love to hear ALL your thoughts!! <3


	3. all business now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t write jackshit this week but I listened to plenty of country, so anybody following “what’s the harm ?”... brace yourselves LMAO
> 
> this chapter was honestly quite fun to write and hopefully another nice little interlude to how things are gonna run, because plot is picking up soon! 👀
> 
> big fat thanks to my utterly amazing beta JuicyDangler and AmayaNoAkatsuki for helping me figure this out <3 this story benefits from you both SO much

“See, Forehead, it _was_ a good idea to come here tonight,” Ino slurs as she slings her arm enthusiastically around her best friend, who’s trying for the fourth time now to just aim her last dart, but keeps getting interrupted by the drunk blonde getting sappy with her. Or maybe she isn’t getting sappy, maybe Ino just knows that her team is losing and this is simply her tried and true technique of diversion. But as her preferred victim, Sakura has little patience for it and groans while she shakes the taller blonde off of her, causing herself to stumble slightly as she tries to balance her beer to keep at least half of the contents in her glass.

Letting out a frustrated huff once she is upright again, the medic grips her dart hard and waves it in front of Ino’s glassy blue eyes, gritting through her teeth in equally liquor-rounded vowels, “Ino, I swear if you don’t let me throw this dart, I will use it to pop your tit like a balloon.”

The threatened kunoichi only scowls disbelievingly down at her friend, clapping the flat of her palm to her ample chest in faux offense as she shakes her head, “You can’t do that, they’re not fake!”

A communal groan rouses from the table to their left, where the rest of their teammates and friends more or less patiently waited and watched the argument between the two drunks.

“Sakura, just throw the dart! We’re trying to win here,” Sasuke groans with a bored roll of his eyes before levelling Ino with a disinterested glare. “Throw it over her shoulder if you have to.”

Instead of doing as instructed, because _why would she ever_ , Sakura whips around on her heel and narrows her sage green eyes at him, barking while pointing the dart now warningly in his direction, “Sasuke, if you try to rush me one more fucking time, you can play on your own. I’m winning this thing here for us!”

Instead of Sasuke firing back a venomously snarky reply, a—for Sakura’s taste far too familiar—voice pipes up from behind the group gathered around the table, “Don’t encourage him, Sakura, he already plays with himself more than enough.”

All six heads, including Tenten’s, Naruto’s and Shikamaru’s, whip around to the source of the sound, which turns out to be Shisui grinning wide over his glass of beer as he swings an arm around Sasuke’s shoulders in a brotherly manner before addressing him directly. “You know, you can’t just hog the bathroom all day just because you don’t have a partner, cousin.”

Even in the dim lighting of the bar Sasuke’s blush burns bright as a neon light on his pale skin and the bitten back snorts and snickers from his friends don’t help tamp it down in the least. Trying to hide his obvious embarrassment, he attempts to draw the attention back to his instigator cousin by knocking his elbow between Shisui’s ribs. It has exactly the desired effect in making the older man both let go of him and causing him to spill some of his beer. “Fuck off, Shisui. Don’t you have your own friends to hang out with?”

The older of the two recovers easily from the small attack on his ribcage and delicately wipes his hand, wet with the spilled beer, on his uniform pants as he grins easily, “Sure do, brought them along even.” To underline his point, he nods over to Itachi and Genma emerging as if on cue easily from the crowd with a gentle wave and a senbon-studded grin.

While everybody was distracted by the interaction between the two bristly cousins, no one paid the completely stunned Sakura any mind. And _gods_ , is she glad for it, because when she begins to slowly come out of her complete shell shock of seeing Shisui so _casually_ after that downright erotic spar from the night prior, she has to check herself to make sure that her jaw hasn’t gone slack. He barely so much as glanced at her as he teased Sasuke and it still sent her _reeling_. So, when Genma smoothly curves around her swaying form and easily swipes both the dart and her beer off her, she doesn’t even notice until half of it has slipped past his lips and down his throat. The tokujō easily downs half her pint in one go, still standing close enough behind her for his flak vest to brush her shirt as he throws the dart with hardly so much as a glance toward the board and lands the triple twenty easily. Sakura finally breaks out of her reverie at the exasperated, loud complaint of Naruto over Genma’s interference and she whirls around to him with a gasp. He’s absolutely enamored by the sound, yet all he can really focus on are her soft cheeks mottled with her furious flush and how much the colour compliments her hair. Meanwhile Sakura is simply dizzy with the smug look he’s giving her—at least she can blame that on the alcohol.

Even if she sways slightly on her feet, her knuckles connect with his shoulder in a hard, unerring punch just seconds after, before she claims back her near-empty glass from his hold. The bastard doesn’t even have the decency to groan, even if he flinches from her battery; instead he flashes her a less than apologetic grin that makes her cheeks grow hotter along with the rest of her body. The heat slips down her belly, straight past the hemline of her skirt and Sakura flares inwardly with shame and exasperation. How _dare_ he? _Does he have no shame at all?_

“What the hell, Genma?” The drunk medic barks, trying her hardest to overplay her flip-flopping stomach and the way just his grin seems to make her knees turn to jelly. Shisui’s smoulder burning into her from the side only adds insult to injury, and even if his curls tickle her peripheral vision she makes no move to acknowledge or even _look_ at him. Knowing that he watched the whole thing, and probably enjoyed it a great deal, makes her lightheaded enough. _Did he get the same thrill out of watching this as he did out of watching her last night?_

_Oh, that’s a_ bad _thought. Back on topic, Haruno._

With a scowl she pointedly avoids either of the two men and eyes her glass and the remaining drink instead. Unhappy with what she finds, Sakura huffs, meaning to raise the glass to her lips to down the pitiful last sip when Ino’s hand catches her wrist halfway to her mouth. The blonde shakes her head with a disgusted grimace, sending her ponytail whipping to and fro as she warns urgently, “Don’t drink out of that, Forehead. You don’t know what that mouth touched!”

_Well, fuck, right now I wish that mouth had touched_ **_me_** _,_ Sakura thinks bitterly as she directs her frown at Ino, but she has no chance to respond with anything less embarrassing than that.

“You’re just bitter because that mouth never touched you, Yamanaka,” Genma snipes right back at the blonde, swirling his senbon to the far corner of his mouth and taking the decision regarding her drink off Sakura by just snatching the rest of the beer straight from her hands again. This time she reacts faster and smacks him straight in the chest, causing him to at least politely cough into the glass.

Ino on the other hand wrinkles her nose and sneers with as much haughty poise as she can muster in her inebriated state, “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole, Shiranui. Even if you were the last shinobi in the village!”

The sound of Shisui’s laughter ringing out at Genma’s expense makes her skin prickle and Sakura twists marginally on her heel, to turn away from him just that fraction of an inch more. Dying to just be done with this mess, she doesn’t pay her best friend any mind and instead glowers darkly up at the thief as she jams her fingers into Genma’s sternum again, “I don't give a fuck what that mouth touched, but you’re buying me a new drink. _Right now_.”

“Finally making a move on me, huh? Thought you’d never ask,” Genma smirks back and Sakura’s eyes slide shut into an annoyed grimace at his wink. She’s buzzed but not drunk enough to handle him like this, or Shisui still watching them impishly from the table. Last night ignited some feelings inside her that are running a little too rampant in her body and if they continue to hang around she will need a whole lot more than beer. Lost in her misery she almost misses it when Genma husks against her ear, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

The touch of his lips across her hair jolts her enough and her eyes grow wide at his question. He can’t be asking her that out in public, right in front of her friends! Her eyes flit momentarily over to Shisui, pretending to listen to Sasuke argue with Shikamaru about something, but she knows better. His eyes burn too intensely into her to not know what’s going on. _Is this their tactic? Tag team her at every corner, in every setting?_

_Fuck,_ that shouldn’t make her wet.

“Huh?” she squeaks eventually, the distress of haphazardly trying to extinguish her arousal clamping around her throat.

“Your drink,” Genma smiles easily—too easily, as if he doesn’t know what they’re doing to her. The whip of his senbon as his tongue plays with it and the spark in his eyes betray him though. “Do you want a beer?”

“No,” she shakes her head forcefully and without hesitation, the word released in a more shuddery breath than she would like. It sends a whole wave of sudden electricity to ripple across Genma’s skin beneath his uniform, and he has to bite down hard on his senbon at the glint in her irises when she directs those big green eyes up at him again. It makes him feel drunker than her beer did. “I want a whiskey. I need something stronger, if you idiots are going to hang around.” The last part she hisses with a pointed glare toward Shisui, grinning a little too dirtily at her to not be paying attention. 

“Anything you want, princess,” Genma murmurs provocatively with another wink, before he slinks away in the direction of the bar and Sakura’s stare burns into his back like hot needles.

A frustrated growl escapes her throat and her molars grind against each other. She hisses again under her breath, “Fucking ANBU.”

Since Ino has turned away back to their group of friends, Sakura is sure that no one heard her near silent curse, but as the past month should have taught her, she should know better than that. _Nothing_ goes unseen or unheard in this village. Shisui’s snort rings clear as a bell in her ears, even above the deafeningly loud chatter of the rest of the bar and it strikes her heart almost still in her chest. Even if his attention causes her entire body to tense, Sakura chooses not to acknowledge it in the least and instead swipes her gaze clean over him to Shikamaru playing with the notepad that he kept score on. Sakura will _not_ let them get to her. She is _not_ their plaything.

Clearing her throat she steps back to the table and smoothes up into the free space besides Shikamaru before gesturing to the dart board, “So, who wins now?”

“No one, because you cheated,” Naruto whines back sourly across the table and nods over to the dart still stuck in the triple twenty. Tenten nods at his side, patting his back comfortingly as she supplies, “He’s kind of right. You _know_ Genma is banned from playing.”

Sakura can barely believe what she’s hearing and scoffs in offense at her friends’ accusations. As if she had _planned_ any of this, when she is just as much victim as they are! Exasperatedly she places her hands on her hips and sputters at the two, “Excuse me? How was any of this _my_ fault? _He_ ambushed _me_!”

Out of the corner of her eye she can see both Shisui and Shikamaru frown at her choice of words and she knows right then that ‘ambush’ was _not_ the fitting term for what had happened. Yet when she directs her narrowed glare at them, daring them to say anything, Shisui only quirks a corner of his mouth upward into a lopsided grin that ignites white heat in her. Rather than acknowledge her clear challenge though, he pretends to stay involved in his conversation with Itachi, only his eyes convey his taunt. _Projecting much?_

Her bubbling anger has no chance to spill from her heaving chest as the third of the Uchiha at the table now draws her attention when he clicks his tongue. “Sakura, let it go, we would’ve won even without that clown,” Sasuke drawls lazily, swirling his drink in his hands with a passive shrug that’s meant to be as dismissive as his tone. Yet before Sakura can manage to retort anything to her defence, a drink is set before her with a heavy hand.

“Hey, who are you calling a clown here, twerp? I got at least fifteen years on you. Watch your mouth,” Genma sneers and takes a sip of his own drink, another whiskey, but Sasuke is less than impressed and narrows his dark eyes to a glower.

“Genma, if you’re that old and I’m a twerp, don’t you feel weird hitting on Sakura then? Considering she’s _my_ age,” the youngest Uchiha snarks right back, and Sakura only wants the earth to swallow her up when the conversation around them falls silent in an instant. Shinobi and civilians are all the same, if not worse in their bloodthirst for gossip.

Her eyes flutter shut for a moment and she feels tired already when she spies the quirk of Ino’s curious brow at the topic, while Genma huffs a small laugh at her side. It is entirely devoid of mirth and Sakura’s cheeks burn in a bright flush when all attention now shifts to their side of the table. Instead of directing his dark amber eyes at her, though, the tokujō turns to his friends on the right and clicks his tongue. Sakura stills when he near growls, “Did he just call me old?”

A shiver runs down Sakura’s spine at the tone of his voice and she white knuckles her glass to keep from making a sound that could tip this situation _horribly_ sideways for her, especially with Ino’s attention still so closely trained on her. There’s a pause in the conversation when everybody seems to hold their breath for a second in anticipation of what Genma’s further course of action will be, but as soon the tension arises, it breaks again. Shattered easily by the rich sound of Shisui’s laugh, bursting free from his chest like the crash of the surf. Sakura releases the breath she didn’t realise she had been holding in a sigh and her shoulders relax considerably. Even Itachi cracks an amused grin when he twists in his seat and tuts at his baby brother, “Sasuke, really. Did I not teach you to respect your elders?”

Now finally the entire group erupts into laughter and Sakura takes a greedy gulp of her whiskey to wash down the nervous clump that had lodged in her throat. This is going to be a _long_ night.

She really can’t catch a break.

The next round of darts Sakura loses. And how could anybody blame her? Not only is she almost blindingly drunk after knocking back her third whiskey, but the distractions in this place tonight are _brutal_. Her peripheral vision is constantly invaded by crooked grins and glinting eyes, so full of mischief that they make her head spin worse than the liquor. During the second round, the return match, Genma’s fingers ghost over her lower back just once, but she shudders so hard she can’t aim anymore. She calls it quits then, and for once she admits defeat. It doesn’t take long after that, only a couple more drinks, until Ino slides off her seat beside Shikamaru and Sakura knows it’s time for her to go home too. Secretly she’s glad for it. With Genma and Shisui dancing around her, not too differently to they way they did on the training grounds, she’s getting too hot and dizzy for such a crowded bar.

When she grabs her jacket, they both lean on the table and raise their glasses to her—their grins are anything but friendly and pure.

“Goodnight, Sakura.”

Her private ANBU teams’ voices echo in her ribcage like thunder and just like her heartbeat stuttering in her chest, she stumbles on her way out the door. 

* * *

  
  
When Sakura rounds the corner of the last step of the stairs he is waiting for her already.

Leaning easily with his hands in his pockets against the hallway wall, right beside the front door to her apartment as if he belongs there. How he knew which door is hers Sakura has no idea, but she doesn’t care to know. After the mess he put her through tonight, Sakura should be angry and ignore him. Yet as she comes closer with slow deliberate steps and spies the knowing, sure grin on his face she just cannot convince herself that she can resist him. His easy grin is infectious and she just can’t suppress her own blooming on her face by the time she reaches him. 

She fiddles with her key for a moment, seemingly stalling before eventually she asks with an amused lilt to her tone, giving away that she doesn’t mind seeing him here at all. “What are you doing here, Genma?”

The tokujō shrugs noncommittally, but the rough chuckle sounding in his throat gives Sakura goosebumps. His low voice sounds exactly as smooth as the single malt he bought her, “Just came to see if you got to bed safe.”

“Don’t you mean home?” Her brow quirks teasingly and the glint in his eye strikes the dry tinder in her belly. 

“No.”

Sakura can neither help her grin from widening nor the flush spreading across her nose and cheeks— _gods_ how she just wants to give in to him. If their circumstances were different she’d be like wax in his warm, large hands.

Buying herself enough time to draw a deep breath, she takes a slow step forward onto her welcome mat. Genma mirrors her movements easily and slides with his shoulder still connected to the wall right up against the frame of the door. So close to her, he can smell the whiskey and her perfume on her. The finer, most intoxicating notes of her scent had been lost in the bar’s crude aroma earlier and he wishes he could bottle this moment. Bottle _her_. Humming to herself, Sakura’s manicured fingers pick up an invisible loose string on his vest and his eyes are drawn to the movement, her _touch_ , like a moth to flame. When she speaks again her voice is full of mirth and a kittenish undertone that makes his cock twitch in his pants.

“Genma, Genma, Genma,” she tuts and he has to swallow at the way she rolls his name around her tongue, “are you proposing tucking me into bed?”

At the thinly veiled implication he has to grin wide through his senbon, whiskey coloured eyes glinting as he leans close to her and murmurs in a dark smooth rumble, “Maybe.” The medic’s breath hitches audibly in her throat and Genma arches a brow at her thumb nail now scraping down the zipper of his vest, down so low it almost meets the waistband of his uniform pants. Leaning in even closer, she can nearly feel his teeth against the curve of her ear as he simpers, “I know I’d do a _real_ good job of putting you to bed, Sakura.”

Controlling her breath and ignoring her heart nearly beating out of her chest, she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from either laughing or straight up moaning as she draws back to look at his face again. When she reaches the edge of the zipper she settles her hands back on his chest, flat and warm before they’re sliding down lower to his stomach again. It makes the muscles hidden beneath the layers of clothing pull tight and his shoulders flex under the strain of having to contain himself to not ravish her right then. When she bats her sooty dark eyelashes at him _oh so innocently_ , Genma should really see it coming. He should honestly know then that this is too easy. And _nothing_ is ever easy with Haruno Sakura.

Her reddened lips curl into an impish grin and his stomach flips when she purrs, “Oh, I’m sure you would.”

Pride makes his chest swell just that little bit and he more or less humbly lets out a low chuckle to that. Instead of answering right away he plucks the senbon from his lips and slides it into the breast pocket of his vest before his fingers come to ghost over her jaw. Sakura grins contentedly, and even leans into his touch just that little bit, kind of wishing desperately that she could kiss him. But he shouldn’t get a reward for neither last night nor this one, and so she will have to take one for the team. Her wrists flex and suddenly her hands grow hard as they plant on his chest and shove him away forcefully.

“A shame I’ll never find out. Since this is ‘ _all business_ ’ now.”

At his very honestly shocked face her grin turns mirthless. Without sparing him another glance she jams her key into the lock and opens the door. “I’m sure you would’ve been a great fuck. Too bad you guys can never just keep things simple.” She pretends to fake ponder as she frowns and taps her chin, bitterness lacing her voice as she is hit with a memory of Kakashi. Of him over-complicating whatever it was that they had and then having the gall to break her heart over it. “Now that I think about it, you know, most men in Konoha can’t seem to ever keep things that fucking simple.” Seeing the dangerous look in her eyes, Genma knows best not to say anything now. “Send my regards to Shisui—or is he waiting inside for me?”

He grinds his teeth when she pretends to look overly excited, and if she didn’t know any better she’d call the flicker in his eyes shameful. Her look of faux-joy falters again like a mask and the look she levels him with is tired in its anger. She’s really done with the men in this village.

“If you’re going to play with me like that again, better be sure not to try and recruit me in the same breath. You can’t have it all. Fuck me _or_ fight with me. Not both.” When he barely so much as nods, kind of reeling with the actually very bold meaning of her words, Sakura smiles and pats his cheek. “Good night, Genma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading and please let me know your thoughts! all your lovely comments make me a better, happier, more motivated writer and your support and thoughts always help me make this story the best it can be! <3


	4. talk is cheap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I live 👀
> 
> hello lovely readers! I know it’s been like a century since I updated last, I really didn’t intend to but july was a rough month for me head-wise and then I started an apprenticeship in August. So, entirely new job, school and I basically felt overwhelmed and depressed for the last two months lmao Thusly, not much spirit to write :^( but I’m on vacation this week and I’ve been constantly thinking about writing and plotting and I’m hoping to get a couple more updates out this month!
> 
> thanks so much for sticking with me throughout this time, I hope all of you are doing as well as you can in these difficult times <3 I’ll be getting to my comments soon and gonna try and get caught up with all of you!!
> 
> thank you for reading and enjoy! as always, all comments mean the absolute world to me 🥺🤍
> 
> FAT thanks as always to my amazing beta JuicyDangler, you are amazing and my work would be indecipherable without you lol

Akamaru’s fur is dry and warm like the wheat in the fields when Sakura threads her fingers through it in a repeated petting motion. Her soft jade gaze sweeps over the bustling gates of the Uchiha compound, calm and unseeing as forest ponds. It’s her first real day off in months and she couldn’t think of anything better to do than to get ramen with Kiba and her old team before heading to the forgotten, kind of run-down little onsen at the edge of town. Her canvas bag slung over her arm is packed with a rich, decadently smelling lotion Ino gifted her for some birthday or Christmas, or anything along those lines, and a book she’s been neglecting to read for the better part of a year. She cannot wait to fall asleep over it after a long soak.

Sakura doesn’t listen to Naruto’s and Kiba’s chatter at her side as it fades into the background noise of the lively compound behind them. Instead she closes her eyes to the sun and its caress, coaxing freckles on her nose to bloom. The trio is technically in the way of the buzzing life around them, waiting for Sasuke so smack-dab in the middle of the gates, but nobody seems to mind the mismatched group and their ninken as the streams of people flow around them like a river. Here and there they’re even greeted by a friendly face and a wave and Sakura smiles at each of them. At each of them but _one,_ whom she spies sauntering along the friend they’re waiting for.

Her jaw sets at Shisui’s sight and she grinds her molars against each other bitterly when he shoots her a seemingly innocent grin. Neither Kiba nor Naruto seem to pick up on Sakura’s obviously souring mood as they call out and wave to the dark haired pair. Only Sasuke seems to match Sakura’s mood for once as he glowers at his cousin. His jaw is taut when he says something to him, but Sakura cannot hear what it is.

Even if they were within earshot, it wouldn’t matter. Shisui’s taunt conveyed by the twinkle in his charcoal eyes as he winks at her, booms too loudly in her skull to allow Sasuke’s voice to cut through.

_What’s got your panties in a twist, Haruno? Aren’t you happy to see me?_

That’s exactly the issue though, isn’t it? That her stomach _does_ flutter when she sees him now, with his wild hair and boyish smirk and dark eyes that promise things she never knew she wanted. The real issue is that she can’t attribute this racing of her heartbeat to being pissed off about his professional pursuit, not in good faith at least. Not when they both know the truth. 

Inhaling deeply, she directs her attention back down to Akamaru still lying on the ground, entirely unbothered by her stiffening posture, and she wishes just for a moment that she could even be a fraction as careless as him. What a life he must lead. All he has to do is sleep, eat and fight on occasion. Most of the time he just gets to lie in the sun and do as he pleases. No goddamn ANBU making him question all of his wishes and desires for his life. _A dog’s life for me._

Sakura watches the breeze ruffle gently through Akamaru’s fur as she tries to ignore the sound of crunching gravel and the hum of Sasuke’s voice growing louder the closer they come. Upon the cousins meeting the group fully the boys all greet each other with brief embraces, warm laughter and half-hearted waves, but Sakura stays right where she is with a bland smile, as if she doesn’t belong to the group anymore. Akamaru at her feet acts akin to a border between her and the two new-comers, and Sakura wouldn’t cross it over her dead body. If it was up to her, Shisui shouldn’t be coming closer to her than fifteen feet.

Not that distance helped her on the training grounds either.

“Shisui-san, do you want to come along for lunch with us?” Kiba offers with a toothy grin and Sakura wants to punch out every single one of his pointed canines. The two shinobi are closer than Sakura remembers, yet it’s of no surprise, considering that they are both on the police force and likely work together.

To her relief, Shisui waves him off and Sakura almost huffs on her exhale.

“That’s kind of you, but I really should get home,” he declines with a soft laugh as he taps the holster of his tanto. “Just got off an overnight shift and I really need to find me a bed.”

Unwillingly, Sakura catches Shisui’s eye on the tail end of his sentence and she feels bile rise in her throat along with the goosebumps spreading across her chest. _Not_ my _bed, that’s for sure._

Displeased with the declination, Naruto crosses his arms over his chest defiantly, but his smile stays friendly when he shakes his head, “Come on, no time even for a bowl of ramen? Nothing better to sleep with than a full stomach.”

This time when Shisui laughs, the sound is rich and a little rough and Sakura has to inhale sharply through her nose. She’s trying her hardest to wrangle the flip of her stomach back into the right direction, but she is struck still when his eyes meet hers again. Charcoal is suddenly dark as onyx and her breath feels shallow in her chest. She isn’t quite so sure now if she can eat any longer today, especially not if Shisui tags along. Eradicating her appetite entirely in one fell swoop, he adds teasingly with a hint of gravel to his tone, “Oh, I could think of quite a few better things to sleep with than that.”

Hitting just the right nerve with the boys, both Kiba and Naruto break into a raucous fit of laughter that Sakura can’t participate in. It provides a much needed break of tension for her however, and allows her to finally draw breath again, before she snorts mirthlessly. _Of course they’d find that funny._ The only one equally unamused as her is Sasuke, as he cuts through Kiba’s and Naruto’s bellowing laughter with a deeply annoyed groan, accompanied by a heavy roll of his eyes and a grimace. Sakura is downright stunned. The kunoichi never thought she’d say this, but for once she and Sasuke share the same sentiments, it seems.

“Oh piss off, Shisui, that was cheap,” the younger cousin sneers moodily as he shoves his hands into his pockets and levels him with an irked glare. “Just go home.”

Before Shisui can even open his mouth to respond, Sasuke’s attention is pulled elsewhere when it drifts from him and seems to focus on Sakura. She scowls as his brows furrow, yet soon realizes that he isn’t focusing on _her_ , but someone _behind_ her. At once a sinking feeling settles in her stomach like a ball of lead.

Her breath shallows in her throat and Sakura freezes to a pillar of salt, when Sasuke speaks up again, “I didn’t know Kakashi-sensei was joining us today.”

She hasn’t seen him in _weeks._ She’s been deliberately choosing to run into him as sparingly as possible lately and that’s generously put. Not that they’ve met very often in the past year anymore either way, yet sensing his presence quite closely behind her feels like a needle prick to her spine. Her gaze drops to the sandy ground and her shoulders stiffen like stone when she hears his smooth calm ‘yo’ behind her. His voice is too close to her. The hairs at the back of her neck stand straight, he can barely stand more than a few feet behind her.

Truth be told though, all of the Land of Fire could be between them right now and Sakura would still deem it too close. Not only is she in such close proximity to _him_ , but she can feel Shisui’s watchful gaze on her too. Sweeping over her features, analyzing the stony expression and tightening of her jaw as Kakashi’s calm, aloof, fucking _blasé_ look barely ghosts over her back. She is trapped between the two like cornered prey.

Refusing to lie down on her back and bare her soft underbelly to the two like a coward, Sakura grits her teeth. The way she always does. Rigidly the medic turns on her heel and swallows down all her rising nausea in a chafing clump as she regards Kakashi with a strained expression. His lone eye meets her burning pair and the nondescript expression she finds in it shatters her heart like it’s the bottle of a molotov cocktail.

“Sakura. It’s good to see you.”

_Dirty liar_ , her inner voice howls sharply and it makes her ears ring.

Instantly her beryl eyes glaze over with the liquid fire seeping from her heart, consuming her in a matter of seconds as her anger heats up her skin like a furnace. Sakura _fumes_. She sucks in a fresh breath sharply between her teeth, feeding the flame at the base of her throat. Her hiss is as silent as it venomous when she presses out breathlessly between clenched teeth, “Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?”

The entire group, even encompassing two of the most loud-mouthed of the rookie twelve, falls silent at once beside them, and if her blood wouldn’t be thundering in her ears she’d even think the entire compound had grown quiet to listen to her grievances.

All three pairs of eyes, sans Shisui’s, rest warily on the couple as they stare each other down in mismatched intensity. Out of the corner of their eyes Kiba and Naruto exchange a worried glance as Sasuke’s scowl deepens. Only Shisui seems unerringly calm, still at his cousin’s side as he crosses his arms and wets his lips. A near smile flashes over his face yet he schools it into indifference again in an instant, when he catches Kakashi’s dark glower piercing him straight across Sakura’s head. There’s a near crackle in the air that almost tastes territorial on the tip of his tongue. He _likes_ it.

The jōnin’s heart beats fast and hard against his sternum, like a fist knocking him out of breath from the inside. His blood boils though, like an iron forgotten in the heat of the kiln. While he can blame his punch-like heart rate on the anxiety sparked by Sakura’s imminent wrath, the anger scorching his skin underneath his uniform is all due to Shisui. The absolute fucking _nerve_ of that boy practically grinning at him across his ex-lover’s rosy head.

He hasn’t heard a single sound from the ANBU duo since they interviewed him on Sakura, but Kakashi has a gut feeling and it’s a rotten one. He’s had the feeling that Genma’s interest in Sakura is not purely a professional one and it hasn’t been for a while. Without question it roiled the green eyed beast in his chest that bared its teeth and hissed at purely the idea of them together, Kakashi could stomach that. With his friend and senior, he would accept whatever happens—Kakashi knows Genma would at least treat Sakura as well as she deserves.

Shisui though? He doesn’t trust the Uchiha any further than he can throw him.

Forcefully relaxing his posture again as it had locked when he caught Shisui’s eye, Kakashi sighs and slides his hands smoothly into his pockets before he regards Sakura with a look that she would like to call pained if it didn’t cut her too deep. She can watch his Adam's apple bob beneath the taut fabric of his mask as he swallows, and suddenly her chest feels so unbearably tight when his voice comes quiet and soft, “So they contacted you?”

She cannot see, he won’t let her know but this pains him. Perhaps more than her even.

The newly crushing tension around her ribcage snaps away like a chakra string and her eyes grow wide in manic exasperation. Sakura scoffs a hollow, high pitched laugh—the ugly kind, the kind that hurts your ears as much as your heart—before she flies forward and almost jabs her fingers into his chest. Akamaru scurries away from behind her, back to safety at Kiba’s side. Just before Sakura’s fingertips make contact with Kakashi’s flak vest she halts though, as if hesitant to touch him at all, and something crumbles away inside Kakashi at that realization.

Her lack of touch hurts more than any harm her brute strength could ever do.

Even if Shisui watched her under the shower while she committed one of the most intimate acts, he has never felt more like a dirty voyeur than now. The couple he is verbally cuckolding now has hardly exchanged a word and yet it’s clear that this is not a conversation any of them should be privy to. Lest of all him.

A pang of guilt infiltrates his bloodstream like a parasite and Shisui feels a little nauseous having egged on Kakashi so deliberately. He doesn’t want to listen, doesn’t want to bear witness to this brawl of hearts. 

Or maybe he _especially_ needs to bear witness to it. To understand her better and her path. To be a better recruiter. A better captain. _A better fuck, perhaps?_

Gods, he cannot help himself. Maybe it’s not Sakura he will understand better from this but Kakashi. Her pull is powerful and inevitable like a maelstrom.

Sakura’s fingertips prickle and her palms tingle with unused energy, with the craving of connection and touch, but she cannot indulge them. Not on this. Pulling her hands back to herself as if he—her ex in every way; ex-sensei, ex-lover, ex- _friend—_ is fire and radiates stinging heat, she redirects her fingertips and pinches the bridge of her nose instead for a full cycle of breath, before glaring back at him again. Pine green eyes shine like hot glass with tears of rage that hurt and sting her eyes. She does not want to cry, he has had her tears for long enough. So she blinks them away, forces chakra into her tear ducts to dry them up, forcefully and brutally, and she regrets it almost instantly. His features are too sharp in her vision now, his passiveness too clear for her to see. When she finally speaks her voice is virulent and thick as molasses in her throat, “It’s absolutely _none_ of your damn business if they contacted me or not. Or what I choose to do about it.”

Kakashi gives no sign of whether or not her words affect him, his arm of indifference is impenetrable as forged iron. To her eyes he merely stands still as a pillar while Naruto and Kiba squirm behind her. Sakura can’t say what hurts her more; his emotion or his lack thereof. It’s almost satirical that Sasuke at least has the decency to look uncomfortable, as far as she can tell out of the corner of her eye—was it not the same grievance that she had with him? Was it not the same emotional limbo he plunged her into that broke her heart in the end? Ironic really that he should be the audience to her little ex-lover’s quarrel.

Shisui’s presence behind her is only the foul cherry on top of this nauseating, rotten sundae.

“They came to me in the first place and asked me for my opinion, that’s all,” Kakashi tries to soothe eventually and he lets his voice drop low enough for only them to hear, but Sakura steps away from him haphazardly. He wants to keep this between them, to shut the thorn in the form of the Uchiha right behind her out, but again he disregards her sentiments on the matter. Because what Sakura would hate more right now than a gallery of onlookers, would be intimacy amidst the public. They’ve had that more than enough— _she_ has had it more than enough lately, and look what good it did her. Not wanting to invite any closeness between them, Sakura stumbles hastily back and near trips as her ankle brushes the tips of Akamaru’s soft fur, pressed uncomfortable and flat to the ground beside his owner. At this point her entire frame shakes with her anger, more than her fear, and she has to take a handful of deep breaths to answer him steadily, instead of in a titanic thunder that might shatter his skull. 

“I know they did, and it was absolutely patronizing as fuck,” she spits then, and Sakura doesn’t care for secrecy or cover any longer as she throws an unnervingly dark glare over her shoulder at Shisui. He doesn’t flinch or react negatively in any way—stoic, much like her sensei and her first love before that—and it only serves to fan the flames charring her ribs to a full blaze. She’s got a type, huh?

What she doesn’t know though, what she can’t see beyond that scrutinizing dark gaze, is that he nearly welcomes this; like a guilty pleasure he revels in her rage even if it comes at the price of her agony. Emotion should not be the driving factor of an ANBU, but Shisui has no doubt that she can channel all this wealth of outbursts into her work if she already manages to sculpt it so elegantly now, only for the sake of not causing a scene. He has no shame in admitting that exactly that _excites_ him.

Perhaps that is what causes him to do it, perhaps not, but in the split second before she turns back Shisui can’t help but give her the faintest little nod of encouragement. As if to say, _go on, obliterate him._ It’s a small, pathetic apology for putting her in this situation wrapped in seemingly innocent support. To Sakura it feels like a cannonball to the chest.

Her brow twitches and she has to consciously set her jaw to keep her chin from quivering when she turns back to Kakashi; at least now he has the courtesy to stiffen a little when her swimming eyes meet his. Her thoughts are racing but her heart knows the words like scripture. “It was patronizing and arrogant and fucking sexist, but the fact that you even spoke on my behalf— That is just _so_ fucking wrong, don’t you know?”

Her words dig under his skin like Genma’s senbon, and right now that mental picture just strikes too close to home for comfort. Trying to shake off the pins and needles creeping up his spine, Kakashi shifts his weight as he crosses his arms across his chest. The pressure is welcome; it feels man-made in comparison to Sakura’s other-worldly wrath pressing down on him like the mountain at his back.

“Sakura, I still care about you, I didn’t mean to interfere,” he tries to argue but she groans in frustration, effectively cutting him off as she sinks her trembling hands into her hair and thunders.

“Don’t fucking say that! You’re not allowed to say that! You don’t get a fucking say in my life! You— You had that chance, Kakashi, and you fucking gave it away,” her voice is raw with hurt and still so thick with unshed tears; the accumulation of months of aching and yearning and raging so heavy, that it nearly chokes her before she manages to draw a rattling breath. “Don’t ever ask me about this again. And don’t talk to them, not about me, not about my career, not about my life. As far as ANBU is concerned, I’m dead to you.”

If she had the Sharingan, maybe tonight she would rewind this moment and watch it back in slow-motion, just to catch Kakashi’s near imperceptible hitch of breath at how ugly she can be. How ugly he made her. With the Sharingan she’d see the way the air sticks to his throat at how he coaxed that spite and acidity out of her. Maybe it is true what they say, after all—love can be pure, yet some couples still only bring out the worst in each other.

As it is now though, without the Uchiha kekkei genkai, Sakura misses the miniscule reaction and barrels on, without so much as a pause between breathless hisses. 

“If they come to you again–” once more she glares unabashedly back at Shisui, and actively ignores the way he meets her eye head on, lest it draws a shudder from her as she whips back around to Kakashi, “–disengage. It’s not your fucking place.”

As the words roll off her tongue, Sakura seems to lose steam with every vowel. The more she slows down, the more vulnerable she will be and in this state, she cannot afford to lose the shield of adrenaline. Desperate to get away from Kakashi, to exit the radius of his grasp, because gods forbid he reaches for her, she takes one trembling step further back again, until she almost falls over Akamaru. His soft sniffling nose nudges the inside of her bare knee so soothingly, it makes her want to sob. Squashing down her racing heartbeat, pumping too fast and making her light headed, she presses her lips together and smiles thinly. Attempting to give as much finality to her tone as she can, she meets Kakashi’s eye a last time, “It never really was though, was it? You didn’t want it, so don’t demand it now.”

The compound still seems too quiet for regular life around her, and the sound of nothingness in her ears is deafening. Kakashi doesn’t answer, not for a long time. In place of a response, he only looks at her—even and emotionless.

There are no words to describe how much she hates this passive expression of his. How badly she wants to send her fist through his skull, when he can’t even muster the courage to look remorseful.

“I’m sorry, Sakura,” he says at last and the words catch between her ribs like hooks. Her heart shatters then, it crumbles inside her like smashed glass, because she knows this tone of voice. She knows it better than the back of her hand. This undertone. It is the same one he used with her in the twilight nothingness of their stolen moments, in the timelessness of dawn—it was _hers_ , just like those moments, up until he took them all from her. She used this tone too, it is hers too—or it was at least, when he still breathed her name into her skin and drank his straight from her mouth.

“I don’t care,” she says eventually and the lie almost makes her gag. The words rolled off her tongue too easily, they did not need to strain through the cracks between her teeth and Sakura frightens herself.

Turning back to her group of friends with her cheeks ruddied and her eyes stinging, she smiles apologetically. Shisui can see how watery it is and he doesn’t know why it makes his heart so heavy.

She pretends to look at her watch, neglecting the fact that she isn’t wearing one at all, but it’s not like anybody is going to fight her on it. “Boys, I’m really sorry but I totally lost track of time and I don’t think I can join you for ramen today. Gotta get back to the hospital,” she smiles as brightly as she can, which only comes off entirely unhinged in light of the recent situation, and Sakura fully ignores that it is her day off. They know that, but again, it’s not like anybody is going to fight her on it. “Have a good lunch though. I’ll see you around.”

Without waiting for their answers she is off on rigid legs and soft knees, and Shisui thinks he can see her break into a jog as she rounds the corner down the road.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! 👀


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